


Let Them Eat Cake

by Santillatron



Series: Lead us both into temptation [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale is a Tease (Good Omens), Aziraphale is a bastard (Good Omens), Cake, Copious amounts of innuendo, Good Omens Lockdown, Humour, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:48:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23955607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Santillatron/pseuds/Santillatron
Summary: Aziraphale loves cake, and in lockdown he has baked a lot of cake. And we all know where there's a British person baking a lot of cake, there's going to be innuendo.All except Crowley. Because hi- the angel is far too proper to be saying what it sounds like he's saying... right?
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Lead us both into temptation [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1511306
Comments: 24
Kudos: 144
Collections: Good Omens Lockdown fics





	Let Them Eat Cake

**Author's Note:**

> So I was actually going to get some sleep tonight and then I had an idea and well this happened. 
> 
> Don't say I didn't warn you.

“…and once I’ve baked them I have to eat them all myself, which is why I was so delighted-”

“to send your burglars home laden with baked goods, yeah, yeah, yeah, I follow. You know, I could hunker down in your place… slither over and watch you eat cake. I could bring a bottle of… well a case of something… drinkable…”

“wh-I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I’m afraid that would be breaking all the rules… uh out of the question!” Aziraphale allowed himself a small smile as he laid the trap. Now he just had to bait it. 

“Besides, I’ve rather run out of places to put the cake. The sofa is holding the petit-fours at the moment. You’d have to slither in underneath them and I’d be eating them off of you!” Aziraphale paused, listening intently for a response. 

“Wh- I-” Crowley stammered. He was trying not to consider it and failing. 

“No, it would be absurd. They’d all fall off anyway. I'm sorry, there simply isn’t anywhere for you to perch, man or snake, that isn’t covered in some form of baked good. Pretty much the only horizontal surface that isn’t occupied is my lap! And even then I managed to drop the girdle cakes I made and ended up wearing the blasted things. No, as much as I would prefer to devour these sweet treats with company, there just simply isn’t anywhere for you to sit.” Aziraphale held his tongue rather hard between his teeth to stop himself from grinning too loudly. Crowley had a good ear for that sort of thing. 

Or he would, if he wasn’t currently trying to not picture himself sprawled in the angel’s lap, having cake eaten off of him. 

“I see what you mean Angel, wouldn’t be much fun for me just standing around. And the floor at yours is so draughty. Nah. You’re probably right. I should just take myself to bed.” Which is exactly what he would be doing if this carried on. Honestly, Aziraphale was like a magnet for unintentional suggestive language and it drove Crowley to distraction. Especially when he was driving. 

“Probably for the best my dear. Besides, I’m sure I’ll work my way through this lot eventually. Do you know, the other day I managed to get nearly a whole éclair in my mouth in one go? Made a bit of a mess with the cream, I tell you. But an entertaining enterprise nonetheless.”

Ok, now that one had to be deliberate. What the fuck. 

“Not as bad as the Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte mind you. That required copious amounts of whipped cream slathered on the outside, and I had it all over myself by the end of it.”

Crowley was going to need to start thinking of exit strategies. His trousers were getting uncomfortable as it was. 

“I didn't realise it would require so much of it! It didn’t take me too long to whip it into shape, although whipping by hand is less efficient, you really need the right equipment for speed, but doing it manually does give one a better feel for the stiffness.” Aziraphale mused, apparently innocently. Crowley had no idea how he managed to do it. Someone who probably had the best vocabulary this side of a dictionary, and yet always managed to word things so borderline filthy. Filthy adjacent. If he didn’t know better he’d say he did it on purpose. But if that was the case… well that was an alley of thought Crowley didn’t dare look down. 

“Yes, so I’ve heard.” He tried, noncommittal at best. 

“That cherry miracle tied me up though.” Aziraphale forced back a grin when he heard a tell-tale ‘ngk’ from the other end of the line. “I wasn’t concentrating hard enough, and got fresh cherries with stems. Turns out humans make tea with the stems did you know? They also seem to brag about tying the stem in a knot with their tongue, although I don’t know what all the fuss is about because I tried it and it’s fairly simple. You’d probably be tying it in plaits with your wicked tongue.”

Aziraphale heard a small whine on the other end of the phone and let his voice drop slightly lower. 

“Although I have to say, with all the things I had to do to the cherries to get them prepared for the cake I’m amazed none of them burst.” Crowley thought he might. “But luckily for me, none of my cherries ended up popped today.” Crowley had to hold the phone to his chest and bite his lip at that one. Which gave Aziraphale a perfect opportunity to hear just how fast Crowley’s heart was racing (angel hearing is really rather good). He waited until he heard Crowley move the phone back to his ear. 

“So far anyway.” Well he’s not renowned for being a bastard for nothing…

“Oh Crowley I don’t know how I would have coped if I hadn’t found these cook books. The recipes in them are simply delightful, although some do look fiendishly hard.” And Crowley resigned himself to the fact that they weren’t the only ones… “But I’m sure I shall give them all a jolly thorough try. Although you’d think a lemon drizzle cake would be easy enough, but they seem quite specific about the amount of penetration required by the drizzle to get the desired effect.”

“Aziraphale are you sure you don’t want me to come over there?” Crowley said, and if it was a bit too fast and a lot too breathless well hopefully he could pass it off as tired or something, right?

“Oh no, my dear, we’re not allowed out, remember? Besides, there’s so much chocolate sauce on the go at the moment you’d just end up all sticky. I’m making Devil’s food cake, and I thought I might as well make some extra for dipping strawberries into. Although I suppose as I’m an angel it’ll be more angel-with-a-dirty-mouth cake!” Aziraphale allowed himself a chuckle at this one. 

“Face” Crowley groaned. He held the phone away from his ear and looked up towards Her with a scowl. Why was she doing this to him?

“Hmm? What was that dear?” Aziraphale asked, audibly licking his fingers clean from the chocolate sauce he’d just taste tested. 

“Hnnnn Aziraphale! It’s ‘Angel with a dirty face’…” Crowley pushed out through gritted teeth. He was having to grip the side of the sofa rather hard at the moment.

“Oh I’ve no doubt I have dear boy, this stuff gets everywhere and there’s only so far a tongue can reach…” He heard the sound of fabric ripping. “I say, Crowley, are you sure you’re alright?”

“Fine, just, tickety-boo Angel…” He did not sound fine in the slightest. 

“Maybe you should come over, you don’t sound fine to me.” He asked, voice dripping with concern.

“No, no, you said it yourself, not a good idea for me to come over right now.” Crowley said, after taking a deep, calming breath. It really wasn't a good idea. 

“I suppose you’re right. I wanted to practice naked bakes anyway, they require quite a bit of lubrication I’m told. You have to make sure they come out perfectly before you lightly skim the sides with buttercream, and that looks like it requires a masterful hand, so I wanted to practice my edging first. Oh! And don’t get me started on the drip cakes where you just spoon the wet icing around the edges and let it dribble down to the bottom. Crowley are you absolutely sure you’re alright my dear, you sound like you’re choking on something…”

“Just had a mouthful of drink that went the wrong way s’all. S’nothing to worry about.” Crowley managed when he could finally breathe again. He had resorted to alcohol to try and take the edge off, and keep his other hand busy. He should just hang up, make his excuses and go to bed and sort this out properly, the way he always does, but Crowley is a masochist at heart. Why else would he put himself through 6000 years of this?

“What else have you made then?” He heard himself ask, wishing he’d thought of a better topic changer. 

“Oh all manner of decadent things dear boy, I’ll have to show you my cream horn when all this is over-”

“Right, well I’m-”

“It’s quite a fiddly one, but once you get the right twist it all comes together. All in the wrist you see. Of course it’s difficult to hold it together when you dip it in the chocolate, but it’s definitely worth it, the chocolate makes it sinfully scrumptious.”

Crowley wasn’t sure how the hell he was going to ever look Aziraphale in the eye after this. At this rate he’d need to be away until July, although it was looking less and less likely that he would be sleeping. 

“Oh Crowley I do wish you were here right now, it’s just not the same describing it over the phone. You really need to be able to actually put them in your mouth to get a proper idea of how they taste."

Bad idea. Bad. Idea. Crowley was in no state to be going over to the bookshop right now, no matter how sad Aziraphale sounded. There was no way he could look Aziraphale in the eye with the images he had going on inside his head. Not to mention the rather obvious amount of Effort going on on his part. 

“Can’t Angel, can’t go out, remember? Even if I wanted to there’s no way to get to yours.”

“Yes I suppose you’re right Crowley. It would take a miracle for you to get here unseen. It would be so useful if we had a way of zipping quickly between our places of residence like all those little bits of data that get the internet to your phone. But hey-ho, nothing can be done. You’ll just have to wait a few months to get a taste of my scrumptious buns.”

Crowley wasn’t sure how it happened. Once moment he was stretched out on his sofa fiercely yearning for said buns, the next moment he was zipping down the phone line like a little bit of… data. Fuck. Right. Emergency protocol needed. He thought about all the mundane objects he could. Dice. Mug. Spoon. Fork. Nonono! Not fork, er, plants. Yes, the plants. There was one that had disappointed him this morning, had to be taken away. Yes that helped. Now his garden room was looking much better. Fuller, lusher… And then his mental image of his garden room now included a very naked Aziraphale amongst the leaves, artfully concealed by some of the larger fronds, and of course he was smiling at him coyly, and naturally that would be the moment that he unceremoniously spat out the other end of the phone line, and landed right in an angel’s lap.

An angel who didn’t seem particularly surprised or upset that he now had a demon straddling him on his desk chair. 

At least Crowley had managed to keep his drink, which he promptly downed in one gulp. 

“Crowley! What an excellent idea! I’d quite forgotten about your phone line trick! Well that certainly solves the problem of you coming without being seen.” Crowley felt himself twitch at that, and Aziraphale had to have noticed. Surely. As it was he hadn’t dared try to get up, because extricating himself would require leaning back and basically putting his bulging crotch in Aziraphale's face, or leaning forward and pressing it into him anyway, and he had no idea how he could explain it away. Besides, Aziraphale didn’t seem to be too worried about him sitting there. 

“We don’t need this any more then, I suppose.” Aziraphale said, hanging up the phone before Crowley could stop him. 

“No! Argh, Angel, how am I going to get back home now? You cut the line. And my mobile is at home.” He whined, trying not to notice the smudge of chocolate on Aziraphale’s neck because he was pretty sure that any moment now he was going to lean in and lick it off in a rather obscene manner. 

“Then I suppose you’ll just have to stay here, won’t you.” Aziraphale said matter of factly. And only then did Crowley notice that the bow tie was gone, and he had a wonderful view of the ends of the angel’s collarbones and by somebody it was a sight that was most definitely going in the already overfilled wank bank. And that was before Aziraphale brought one hand up to take his empty glass from his unresisting hands and he realised that the sleeves on his pale blue shirt were rolled up as well. He was powerless to stop the sound that forced its way out of his throat in that moment. Something guttural, part way between a growl and a whine and full of need, and Aziraphale definitely noticed because he frowned slightly. 

Then that scandalous forearm was on its way back from depositing the glass on the table, and heading for his face. 

Aziraphale touched the back of his hand to Crowley’s forehead and he couldn’t help but lean into the touch. 

“Crowley you’re burn- you look rather warm and uncomfortable. Are you positive you’re not ill?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley shook his head. He didn’t trust his mouth right now. 

Aziraphale’s other hand came up to support his back, as the first one slipped down to cradle his cheek to test the warmth there, and Crowley closed his eyes and sighed at the contact. 

“Well, if you’re sure my dear. Now, would you like a kiss?” Crowley’s eyes shot back open again to see an angel looking utterly earnest, and lightly biting his bottom lip as he looked up at Crowley. Holding his waist with one hand while the other was cradling his face. 

Crowley braved a look down that alley of thought. His body was faster though, and had already dived in to close the distance. Both of his hands came up of their own accord to bury themselves in angelic, platinum hair, and steady himself against the angel’s broad chest, respectively. The feeling of those teeth-worried lips against his was like nothing he’d ever felt before. They were electric, they were like fire and ice chasing through his veins. They fitted together like the tiers of a cake, and oh fuck now Aziraphale was kissing him back and he tasted of chocolate and the thrill of that spurred him into pressing his whole body into the soft warmth that was the angel he had coveted since the dawn of human civilisation. He had no idea how they had ended up here, but if he's learnt anything it was that there was a time and place for questions, and this most definitely was not it. Not while Aziraphale was sliding his alarmingly dextrous tongue into his mouth. Then Aziraphale’s hand slid down and pulled their bodies together and Crowley’ head snapped back as he gasped at the pressure. He realised he was still wearing his sunglasses so ripped them off his face, turning to the table next to them to throw them down and froze. 

“Aziraphale. Is that a plate full of meringue kisses?” He asked, the dread washing over him in cold waves. 

“Hmm?” Aziraphale followed his gaze to a plate full of little dollops of meringue. “Oh no, those are meringue tear drops.” He said lightly. 

Crowley looked at him skeptically. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. Now come back here you wily serpent.” Aziraphale said, dragging Crowley back down by his neck scarf. 

It wasn’t until the next morning that Crowley began to complain about his rudely abandoned phone, so Aziraphale sighed, snapped his fingers, and Crowley’s phone appeared on the table opposite them. He jumped up to get it, having first disentangled himself from a very tactile angel.

“Would you mind grabbing me a couple of meringue kisses while you’re up dearest?” Aziraphale asked blithely. 

Crowley’s hand froze, hovering over his phone. 

“You bastard.” He almost whispered, looking back an an angel who was looking incredibly pleased with himself. 

“And, oh dear, it appears you’re rather stuck with me dear boy. Whatever will you do?”

Crowley stalked back over to where Aziraphale was sat at one end of the sofa. 

“‘M sure I can think of something…” He purred, holding a jug of warm chocolate sauce. 


End file.
